


Therapy for the World Savior

by The_Mumbling_Mammoth



Series: Not a Hero [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anger Management, BAMF Uzumaki Naruto, Childhood Trauma, Fuuinjutsu Master Uzumaki Naruto, Gen, Post-Fourth Shinobi War, Therapy, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:41:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24039064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Mumbling_Mammoth/pseuds/The_Mumbling_Mammoth
Summary: After Fourth War was finished and Five Nations found their peace, one bitter reminder of past is still left. It wouldn't be that bad, was it not the last Jinchūriki, the World Savior.What could be expected, when strongest man alive is forced to reopen his wounds?_____takes place in AU, where Naruto was raised mostly by himself and Kurama, wary of other humansfirst work in intended series of therapy sessions
Series: Not a Hero [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1734109
Comments: 4
Kudos: 52





	1. Chapter 1

There was quite a number of better ways to start a new day, in Ishizuki Oroki’s opinion. Bruised toe, burnt coffee, papers, which he almost lost to the wind. All of this practically screamed “bad omen”. But Oroki was a shinobi, a war veteran, and a therapist in practice for good five years now. He knows builded up nerves when he sees ones.

Which, unfortunately, does not mean he automatically can deal with them. For that you need to understand the reason behind anxiety, to accept unavoidable, and to develop safe coping mechanism. And yeah, Oroki new all of that too.

It’s just that no amount of understanding and coping mechanism can prepare someone for trails like that.

– Welcome, Uzumaki-san. – Oroki said with wavering smile on his face. – I’m glad you could make it.

The face in front of him did not twitch in slightest.

– Oroki, you moron. He is fucking Uzumaki Naruto. Of course he could make it. – the man mumbled to himself, losing face composure.

– Ishizuki-san, you worrying too much. It can’t be that bad. – a voice came from his side. Ishido, helpful as always.

– Wanna switch?

– Hell no.

– Then shut up until you have some actual tips for me to stay alive after this. – Oroki said, eyeing his colleague through doorway.

– He already said so, you worrying too much. Relax a little. – Yamanaka girl told him with wink.

– Actually, not. – another advice came, this time from passing Ibiki. – Be focused, polite and punctual. Uzumaki is not to be messed around.

Thank goodness, just that Oroki needed.

– Speaking about punctual, you should probably get going now. Uzumaki is passing gates.

– What, already?!

Oroki jumped a little, then turned his gaze to clock. He couldn’t waste entire hour staring of his new client photo, could he? The clock were almost at twelve. He totally could.

– Man, I’m so envious. What I wouldn’t give for a chance to peek inside his head. From safe distance, of course. – Yamanaka Fumo mused dreamily, all but jumping from window.

– Exactly why you off limits with him, you suicide psycho. – muttered Oroki, quickly checking his appearance. – And why I am the one to deal with this shit.

– And the one with “was late to his own cabinet” as death cause on grave plate.

– Fucking love you, Fu.

– Break the leg and all that, Roki.

That was not like Oroki didn’t like his current job. He was proud of it, really. And not like he think that Uzumaki Naruto, of all people, was in no need for therapy. The man was main argument behind the very idea of shinobi’s mental health care. And Oroki really was a veteran, so he had seen, had felt it by himself, both war’s hardships and Uzumaki’s state of mind.

He just never thought that this particular push will come to shove. And that he will be the one in receiving end of era’s worth tragedy.

Oroki managed to take his seat just in time for soft knock to be heard.

– Come in, come in! – there was a little tremble in the therapist’s voice.

Man, he was no way as much confident as he thought he would be. There goes his hope to at least sound professional.

The door slided away and there he was. Uzumaki Naruto. Fourth Shinobi World War Hero. World Savior. Ishizuki Oroki’s nightmare from now on and till…

– Hello. – the man said, not a step further from the entrance.

– Welcome, Uzumaki-san. – Oroki came up with prepared response and than paused.

Somehow, he didn’t see that coming. Should he go with more order-like “Please, take a seat” or more patronizing “You can have a seat” now? Submeaning was very important in shinobi talks, same in therapy. On higher power levels, even more so. But maybe Fumo was right and he was slightly overthinking. So Oroki continued with neutral:

– Would you like to take a seat?

– No. – Uzumaki said, cold like an iceberg.

Well, maybe Fumo was not actually right, yeah?

– Why so? – Oroki asked. He was a damn profi, he would not twitch in his seat.

– I have agreed to this bullshit on three condition. First, they would have to find someone willing. – Uzumaki, it seems, chose to ignore the question. – That means, no death or torture threats, or job punishment, or some other fucked up shenanigans. So, are you willing?

– Guess i am. – well, Oroki was told, and more than once, to not fuck this up. By many people, Hokage included, if in more gentle form. But this was not an actual threat, and he technically could decline this appointment. And crazy masochist with no self-saving mechanism he was, seating here and now.

– Second, you will not pass any information gained in this sessions to anyone, without my explicit allowance. Third, you will not outright make me talk about something I don’t want to. – Uzumaki didn’t even blink. Well, Oroki couldn’t actually see his eyes, with that blindfold of his, but he had a feeling.

– Yeah, this is the very foundation of therapy. So…

The man raised his sole arm up in hand sign. Faster than Oroki could react, he summoned a clone and pushed it outdoor.

– Go get some fresh air, foxy. – Uzumaki said.

– Oh, fuck off, fish… – the clone, with crimson cloak rapidly building on its shoulders, was shutted by slammed door.

Oroki was trying very hard not to twitch. Not to do anything at all, since whatever he could come up with was too close to showing panic to a client. That would be so impolite. Like summoning literal demon and putting it off the leash inside healthcare institution. Or like drawing some unknown seals on walls of other person’s cabinet, which Uzumaki was currently doing now. Man, world was so hypocritical sometimes.

– So I don’t want to talk about anything. – he said, then work was done. – At all. So I won’t. And, since you just gain this information in this session, you will pass it to exactly noone. I will feed you your spine otherwise. You can say them that I was here, we had talk, and I agreed to come again. And that’s it. 

And just like this, that was indeed it. Uzumaki lay down on the floor. Oroki, after five shameful minutes, finally shaked stupor down – he seriously hoped that one of those seals was able to hide this spike of killing intent. By then Uzumaki was either truly sleeping, or faking it decent enough.

When cloak were at hour, seals blink for a moment and disappear. Uzumaki stood up. His face turn to Oroki’s for a second.

– Good talk. Really helpful and all that. See you next week.

And moment after that, he was gone.

In the beginning of all this shinobi mental healthcare thing, they simply took civilian system and then adjusted it as needed. Ninken therapy instead of kitten. Genjutsu instead of hypnosis. Agreed-only mind reading and mind projecting in some cases. Same old with some little perks from chakra wielders. Same basis as for any other humans. Shinobi were humans, after all.

But it seems that there are some difference between civilian and shinobi therapy. Or, more likely, between all normal people therapy and that of Uzumaki Naruto. You see, in usual therapy doctor was the one with confidence and patient was one without it. Almost every problem in therapy can be reduced to lack of confidence, one way or another. Because if you have it, you can resolve your problems. If not, well, then you doctor will have to find a way to transfer it to you, or help you to develop it on you own, or…

That was not actually the absolute truth, not even close. And Oroki was aware that he was reflecting, but he really needed it right now. Because every fucking time Uzumaki walk in his cabinet, therapist would suddenly lost all confidence he worked up during yet another week.

Soon he will in need for therapy himself. He already had per month appointment – that was part of institution policy. But Oroki was not sure how safe it was too talk about this problem. Would his therapist keep it in secret? Would Uzumaki find out anyway, and then would he really execute the threat? Questions, question, and no answer. Thus what? Bingo, lack of confidence.

They fell in some sort of routine. Uzumaki will come, exactly on time. He will instal some privacy seals, then ignore few questions Oroki have courage to ask. Then he will sleep or meditate. And after that, exactly on time, he will took seals down and be gone.

By the end of second month, and the end of second report for Hokage, exactly same as first, Oroki was determined to break this cycle and have at least one meaningful answer. Or just response beyond simple yes-no. Or just response. He wasn’t that picky.

And, because that was Uzumaki Naruto he was planning about, his plan was thrown straight to hell the moment next appointment started.

The man, always cold and collected before, came in a worrying sort of rush. He slammed the door shut behind him and put seals up with his palm hitting wall hard enough to produce a loud bang. Then Uzumaki let a small breath out, as if to calm himself, and slowly turn to Oroki. Therapist went rigid.

– Something is wrong, Uzumaki-san? – he managed to say in surprisingly steady voice.

– I thought we have an understanding. – the man said.

– Well, I wouldn't call that an un…

– So why the goddamn Hokage just asked me about changing a therapist?

That bit of information gave Oroki a pause. For more than one reason.

– And you opposed to this idea. – he chose to ignore question for a moment. After all, for Uzumaki it seems to work just fine. – Why?

– Why shouldn't I? This shit worked fine for two month.

Ah, he is a bit of plegma, who would know? Oroki could work with this.

– I wouldn't say "fine". We had barely talked. Maybe another therapist will help you more.

– So it was your idea? – Uzumaki demanded.

– No, not at all. Wasn't even aware. But it is a sound one.

The man huffed.

– As if new guy will be any better.

– So, it is not me personally you have problem with.

– Trust me, you would notice overwise. – Uzumaki snarled, but then stopped himself. After small breath, he continued more calmly: – My only problem now is that you people just can't leave me alone.

– We can discuss this later, if you want. But firstly, you a supposedly smart person. War genius, after all. So, you sure can see that you have some other problems. And it isn't bad, everyone have them. – Oroki quickly added. – One of yours lay in communication.

– I have no fucking problem communicating with people, thank you.

– Yeah, and that's why we had so many communications over past two months. – therapist risked to show some teeth in his smile.

Uzumaki just stared on this small smile, till it had slipped off Oroki's face. Then, as sweat start to form on therapist forehead, the man suddenly… smiled himself?

– You got me here, didn’t you? Well, to answer this question of yours, yes, I don’t have problems communicate with you, nor with people in general. But you personally, as almost any other human I have met, share this one annoying trait.

Without warning Uzumaki made two steps forward and, reflectornaly, Oroki pushed his chair back, ready to flee before anything else. His client never ever stepped further then needed to lay down before. That was just unpredictable and as such, shinobi reflexes get better of him. Totally that.

Oroki usually was quite capable in selflying, but unfortunately not now.

– You are scared of me. – ended Uzumaki, almost triumphal.

However, there was a hurt in his posture. Covered by confident pose and strong voice, but still visible for overwary therapist. This was sole reason he came back to his sense in time to response.

– You threatened me the very first time we met. – then you can not lie, just tell some other truth. That’s basic. – And you  _ are  _ the strongest man in known world.

– Don’t even try to pull this shit with me. I could smell it the moment I came to your door, that first time.

Well, that’s what “able to sense emotions” in his file meant. Definitely not classic empathy.

– So tell me, doctor. How you are supposed to build up connection with people, who constantly afraid of you? Because you know what fear is for? It is for keeping your act small till the moment you can surely take down the aggressor. – That was quite original way to put this. – And you expect me to arm your lot with knives against my every weakness? Think again.

And Oroki did think. This was finally it, the man open up enough to give a talk, and to hell the fact it was an anger, what drew him to it. 

– Well, yeah. Yes, I mature enough to admit it, I am scared of you. All the while I rationaly understand that you will not hurt someone without good reason, I'm still afraid. – suddenly, words came to Oroki much easier. – You know why? Because I do not know you. I know plenty about you, but still don't know you.

Uzumaki just stood in silence. But he didn't step away, had not try to lie down. He was still listening. And so, Oroki kept talk.

– And you do not know me, Uzumaki-san. You know plenty about people in general, I have no doubt. Especially they cruel part. But you do not know me. That's why  _ you  _ are scared of  _ me _ .

Uzumaki snort.

– Didn't know you are jekcster. 

– My point exactly. But I'm not joking.

– I'm not scared of anyone, doctor.

– Maybe, but you still scared of rejection. Of someone betrays your trust. So you don't give it.

– Well, congratulation, you got me here too. – sarcastic smile appeared on Uzumaki's face. – That was my politic for longer than decade now. And you know what? Worked perfectly.

Oroki let small exhausted breath out. They started with one problem, now they had a whole bunch. And he had not even one simple answer.

– We surely got side tracked.

– Yeah, right. So, go to the Hokage and tell him we fine like we is.

– And why would I tell him so?

– You are supposed to help me. Changing guys every few month will just encourage this worrying fuckers. So, help.

Oroki facepalmed in desperate. Well, his best results today was achieved by ignoring his client, so…

– Uzumaki-san, we just discussed what fears two unknown to each other persons can have.

– I already said, don't pull this bullshit. Actually, forget about it. If I just drop enough therapists, they will run out of them.

– So, levels or reasons of fear notwithstanding, we need to work through this.

Uzumaki quirked his head and Oroki practically feeled, how his attention was ready to slip away.

– I think we should exchange few little facts about us and see, where this will take us.

The man started to turn, posture completely disinterested. So Oroki made his well prepared move.

– Favorite food, for example. Don't tell anyone, but I have a bit of sweet tooth. I try to moderate it though, so I only have sweets every other evening, on my way home. There are this little shop, Kofoku's Pastry, they have amazing cakes. You should try some.

As Oroki finished, a long silence crept into cabinet. Then, when therapist almost start to twitch in his seat, Uzumaki broke with actual laugh.

– You know, I think you really couldn’t be any less subtle. Is this in my profile, or something? Something like, Uzumaki Naruto, SSS-level of danger. Flee on sight, or use ramen talk as a distraction.

Therapist smiled himself.

– Well, that would be hilarious. – especially since it was ninety-percent truth already. – But no. There are note about Ichiraku, but nothing too elaborated. I just picked it from Hokage.

– Hm?

– Well, there was complain how last time he hears you talk, it was two years ago and about ramen.

– If it bothers him, maybe he should gather his balls and do something about it. – cheer in man’s voice quickly turns to grim.

– Well, noodles sounds like safe topic. – yet again, Oroki chose ignorance. He hoped it would not grow into tendence. – You can’t blame me for trying. Though I shall confess, I myself not very fond of ramen.

And with that, air in the room changed. Not to something dark, or heavy, or threatening. Just changed. Oroki could practically filled tension under Uzumaki’s skin. He didn’t know that this was about, but there definitely was some breaking point. And, as he had no idea what specific point it was, he had no way to help his client.

– It’s funny, you know. – a soft voice finally came. – I’m not very fond of it either.

Well, that Oroki did not see coming.

– What? – therapist blurted before he could stop himself.

– I’m not dislike ramen. And I vague remember that it was really tasty. Still is, probably. – Uzumaki shrugs. – It’s just, you know. Eating same thing day after day for nearly two decade. Lost taste for noodles after first two years.

– When why keep eating it?

– Because… – the man started and ended, his hand moving in abrupt signs. – Because. Look, I haven’t told this to anyone, you know.

Oroki couldn’t believe this. Uzumaki freaking Naruto was mumbling, twitching, and all together losing his shit right in front of him. Because of ramen. And no in a way he could possibly predict.

– You can tell me. I would not spread it any further, not even under a torture. – Oroki managed to say in his most confident voice. – That is what confidential therapy is for.

– You better not to. – response came, and it was sure a laugh, but almost sounded like a sob.

– Take a seat. We still have a better part of hour.

– You asshole, you finally got what you wanted, huh? – Uzumaki barked.

But then he did it. He kicked chair, so it would bounce a little to a side, then he sat. One foot under him, other stretched, with face turned away from therapist. He took a seat.

A long moment of silence followed, but Oroki was in no rush. His client finally took his therapy seriously. Over a noodles, but who cares now, then he was in chair and trying to talk?

– You know about Ichiraku, right? – the man quietly started. – Everybody knows now. And, you just say it, there is a note about it in my file. What does it says?

– That you have a strong sympathy to this place. – therapist softly provided. – From the childhood to nowadays.

– Oh, yeah. From the childhood. – word came from man’s tongue twisted with anger. – What they have written about it, I wonder.

There was no direct question, so Oroki remained silent.

– Not much, I presume. – Uzumaki guessed.

– No, not much. – therapist carefully confirm.

– No one like having their mess in solid ink. – Uzumaki snarled. – What’s your age?

– Will be forty seven in couple of month.

– So, you know, right. – something started to creep into the air. – Kyuubi attack, and all that.

– Yeah, I know.

– And that old order, about conspiracy. – that something, therapist realised with rising hair, was a pure hatred, a killing intent without direction. Small, if noticeable for now, but…

– Yes.

– How do you think, it was?

Noodles, right. Safe topics. Small steps, slow pace. Oroki was in deep shit.

– Not good.

– No shit, doctor. Not good at all.

Then silence came for another round. This one was much more tense and heavy. But Oroki, not moving his eyes off his client even for a second have noticed something. Uzumaki didn’t just breathe harder, he was going through calming exercise. On his own.

– Sorry. – the man managed, once rage was gone from air.

– Never mind me. But take as many time as you want. I really would love to hear a truth behind world's famous ramen, but it can wait.

And Oroki could use a bit of a break too.

– Right, ramen. – Uzumaki, though, didn't want to hold it for much longer. – You know, they named me World Savior, on this after war festival. I named them morons.

– Yeah, I actually was there on that night. It was hilariously terrifying.

– Because I am not a Savior. I am not a hero. Teuchi is.

– Ichiraku owner?

– Have you been there?

– Couple of times. As I said, it's not my cup of tea.

– And why then you go to a ramen place, couldn't even guess. – smirk on man's lips said that he totally could.

– Yeah, guilty to all charges.

– Well, I have a good memory for jerks. Don't remember you, though, means you were at least subte. – Uzumaki waved therapist concerns off.

Room went quiet once again. Oroki's gaze moved to his clock. They had roughly twenty minutes left.

– I was at the age of three or four. Do not recall it myself properly, but Teuchi rumbles about it sometimes. Though not too often, he is not that old yet. Whenever, I was small kid back then. Smaller than others, since I hadn't right diet, or even regular food.

Oroki winced and that didn't pass unnoticed.

– I think I remember it, but maybe I just imagining this memory. But I was actually excited, then the Third said I'm on my own. That fucker. Don't have a clue, who was in charge of me before.

Oroki has a clue, written right in front of him, but he remained silent.

– Excitement evaporated pretty quick. As quick, as I had went through all nearby shops. Being stupid stubborn brat I was, I started to wonder further and further away. I would go to markets, get yelled by shopkeepers. Then on playgrounds, to be yelled by parents. And on a sunset an ANBU would get my empty-stomach butt back to apartament.

Usually, while shinobi on large had a petty short and tough childhood, they were having a lot tougher maturing and adulthood. So, it was common practice for therapists to reflect on their client's good days as a child. What a joy was awaiting Oroki, he was actively trying not to imagine.

– One of this days, ANBU was not there. Or, they probably was, they just didn't give a shit anymore. And, well, I was lost. Small, barely talking child, on hostile streets of Konoha.

Trying as he was, that last bit still gave Oroki a cringe. He was not blind to faults of his village, but he loved it. To hear "hostile" and "Konoha" together…

– You know, now I don't actually think what everyone was downright hating, or not caring those days. Maybe they were just scared of consequences of helping me, or believed what someone else would.

At least Uzumaki understands that by himself, Oroki prayed for man's intelligence.

– But then, then it was the hell. I was going and going in fucking circles, and every single man or woman would storm away from me the second I ask them to help. I don't remember, probably it was after some drunk yelling, but somehow I ended sitting on street, crying myself dry. Probably not for a first time. Definitely not for a first time.

Noodles. Fu would laugh her ass off, should he tell her about this. But he shouldn't. And he definitely shouldn’t giving himself morbid jokes, not when something like this layed out in front of him. But Oroki had to keep his calm somehow, right?

– And then, again, I don't remember how, but somehow I ended on this seat, too high to climb it by myself. With bowl of something warm in front of me. And under smiling gaze.

– That is a respectable action. Teuchi-san should be proud.

– Teuchi should be prayed on every other morning. He said that I should come again, and sent Aiame with me, so I wouldn't lost again. And she even drew me a small map. I still have it in my room.

Well, it sounded a little unhealthy, but understandable.

– So, you have a strong mental bound between ramen and happiness. – Oroki concluded before they got side tracking again.

– Of course not. Well, not for long. First naive years I adored this noodles for real.

– And after that?

– How profitable, do you think, you can be by running small ramen shop in shinobi village?

– Fairy profitable, I guess. Depend on people's… – Oroki answered his own question and make a silent “oh”.

– Yeah. You see, Ichiraku was there long before me. And it was sort of famous between shinobi and civilians alike. Pretty decent establishment. Right until they picked me from streets and showed that they  _ care. _

– Was that really that bad? – Oroki wanted to sound doubtful, but he was just… angry?

– You were there. You tell me. – Uzumaki told him with mock cheer, but it didn’t last long. – I just started to picking all this shit up after entering Academy. And once I realized enough, I started to support Teuchi every way I can.

– You were six by then. – well, that just could not be right. – There is no way a single six years old customer could keep outcasted shop on float by buying all his meals there.

– As I said, I think there was a plenty of decent people. Who could not or would not stood up for demon brat, but would still go for a good meal.

– What does not sound decent at all. This situation would be just ridiculous, if it wasn’t real. You can’t call people decent just for not shut down a man, who was the only one to help a child with tough fate.

– And that, doctor, is  _ my _ point exactly. But, it seems like our time is up, so… – Uzumaki fluidly stood up. Before Oroki had even a chance to react properly, man was already at the door. – See you next week.

– One miso ramen with extra pork, please. – therapist said quietly. 

– Order taken! – came enthusiastic response.

Oroki did not like the ramen. But it was not about noodles at all, was it?


	2. About likes and dislikes

– Good morning, Uzumaki-san! Nice to meet you again.

– Yeah, sure. – man’s voice was not warm at all, but not outright cold either.

– So, how was your we…

– Listen. – Uzumaki, just finished placing private seals, stopped therapist. – You are decent one, probably. And yeah, we had this noodle talk last time. It doesn’t make us friends.

– Yes, it does not. – Oroki confirms. – But I am your therapist, so I can…

– So you can cut this shit right here. I do not report before Hokage, would not report to you either.

– Okay, okay. But please, take a seat.

– Whatever for?

Kami help him. Oroki knew this would not be quite that easy, last breakthrough notwithstanding. But he could hope, couldn’t he?

– Last time we talked, we overlooked your current problem.

Uzumaki was still standing. Well, at least not lying. 

– You have told, I quote, that your only problem is that we, people, would not leave you alone.

– Did you write that down somewhere? – somewhere behind this blindfold an eyebrow was raised, Oroki was sure.

– Yes, I am taking notes on my appointments. Are you deflecting?

“Are you suicidal?” therapist can almost hear in response. But, contrary to his believes, the man just chuckled.

– You do understand that I can just shut you off and take a nap?  _ That  _ would be deflecting.

– So, you do recognize the fact that you were deflecting you problems for two months. Probably longer.

Even after Oroki logically concluded that being cheeky was his best policy, it was hard to talk back a World Savior. But he was trying.

Uzumaki didn’t react in any way. Just stood there, not so patiently waiting, whatever therapist will be able to catch his interest. Oroki gave out small sigh.

– I guess we aren’t quite there, yet. How about origin plan, one about getting to know each other?

– Sorry, don’t really care about your life divergences.

– Well, I, for one, care about yours. And not only as therapist. – Oroki hastily added. – So this, – he slightly lifted client’s profile, – is not satisfying at all. 

– What am I, some real-life show to you? – growled Uzumaki, but without real fire in voice.

– We can start with something light. Some hobbies, likes and dislikes, stuff like that.

Oroki somewhat accustomed to unusual reactions from Uzumaki, but normal ones still weirded him out. Like this totally human snort.

– Sounds nostalgic.

– Nostalgic?

– Yeah. – the man suddenly looked torn. Then, Uzumaki finally took his seat.

– Team building, I guess? Had few tries like jounin sensei, but that was not for me. Still remember “Teaching for dummies”, though.

– Sounds like something Hatake would read.

– Hatake?

– Don’t play dumb. – Uzumaki huffed.

– Yes, of course, I know… but why Hatake? Not Kakashi-sensei?

– Wasn’t my sensei. – came sharp answer.

O-kay. Oroki did his best not to sigh. Safe topic, yeah, small steps. He should have known.

– Not to call you a liar, but he was.

– And when, exactly, did he teach me something?

Well, Kakashi was known for not following traditional order, but surely he would not neglect his students this much. This was Team Seven, after all, there was no way… Oroki stopped himself. Week ago he would say there was no way orphan would be left wondering  _ hostile  _ streets of Konoha all alone.

Still, Oroki had all his clients files. And, with nothing better to do, he studied Uzumaki’s to the dot. And while he assumed that luck of study records was due to Kakashi’s paperwork neglecting, not actual students neglecting, there was still one line.

– Tree-walking?

The man huffed.

– Yeah, there was something about that. He climbed up a tree in front of us, told to master this as soon as we can, then left. Some teaching it was.

Well, some teaching it was indeed.

– You know, it’s not always just about jutsus. – Oroki didn’t even know, why was he trying to defend wayward jounin. – It’s more about general tactics and helpful tips.

– Oh, you right. – mocking smile crept on man’s face. – He did this, once.

Therapist knew festered resentment when he saw one. Still, he was here to help his clients to pronounce and overcome their problems, not to sit in silence.

– What was it?

– To suck it up.

Not a bad advise, but Uzumaki said it with so much malice. Oroki wanted to ask about details, but remained silent. His client needed not encouverment, not anymore. Only time.

– So, there I was. Small, angry kid. Only two actual human friends, both much older and civilian too. With growing hatred on Third, and teachers, and, well, everyone, really. I didn't even want to be shinobi. My dream was to either go work with Teuchi, or run away in a wild. But this exam…

Uzumaki, as if to much talk was tiring for his throat, stopped.

– You wanted to accomplish something. – therapist afforded.

– Yeah, I wanted. Not simply pass it, but destroy it completely. To show them, what exactly little monster was capable of. What no matter how much stick they would put in my wheels, I would outrace them all.

Uzumaki's academy troubles was somewhat of public knowledge, and Oroki was a part of this public. And, long before the man became World Savior, he understood – this was not the kid's fault. He just didn't dwell on it. Not before, not after. That was easy, right until man's files appeared on Oroki's table.

– It was of no use, really. – the man continued, once he calmed enough. – I still had to learn not to care about fuckers opinion, and, well. It's in solid ink now, what a farce my examination devolve into. But that beside the point. The point is, I didn't want to become a shinobi. But became one regardless. And nightmare just began.

There was a humor in Uzumaki's voice. A morbid one.

– I went to a team assignment. Everyone in class were sure I failed, so they didn't expect me. Ones, who liked to pretend I didn't scare them, started yelling. I sat with bastard, Uchiha, because he didn't care either way. Yellings doubled, because this seat was for fangirls, obviously. Haruno threw a punch. Bitch. Others was ready to join, I was ready to rip someone apart, Kurama was eager to rip  _ every _ one…

– You were in contact with Kyuubi by graduation?! – Oroki could not help himself not to shout.

Uzumaki faced him with most flat look the therapist ever received. Well, not look, just face, but whatever.

– S-sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt.

– Iruka came and started with team announcement. And I ended up with this bastard, which, while Kura would not stop whining, was tolerable. And this bitch Haruno. Who in instant start complaining, why I was putted with them. And didn't stop till Iruka said that I  _ so _ bad, they had to combine me with two top student to balance. Announcement were not even over, when class started whispering about how I didn't actually pass, and was called into for even numbers.

Well, wasn't this a brand new experience for Oroki? Starting therapist career, he had learned, that bullying was a major problem in civilian therapy. But for shinobi it was mostly grieve, guilt and ability loss, so he willingly overlooked it. Of fucking course the world strongest one would be someone bullied.

– Then jounin were coming, taking team by team away. Then we were the last ones left. Then Hatake finally graced us with his presence, after three fucking hours. That’s when this “team building” took place, yeah. Really great.

Silence fell upon the room. They surely got sidetracking. Again. Oroki was wondering, was there some life aspect in which his client wasn’t fucked up by supposidly most kind-hearted village. Again.

– By the next day, I was already done. – Uzumaki skipped actual introduction, but Oroki didn’t press. They could, and hopefully would, return to it later. – So, then geezer said that only two of us would actually pass, I just went home.

Because of course he did.

– He assumed that I was hiding. When time went up, he recognized I was not. Found me in my apartment. Told me that I am irresponsible brat. I told him to fuck off. He said if I wouldn’t even try, I would never become a shinobi. “Fine by me”, I said. Hatake took me to Hokage. He tried to scold me, one last time. I threw a fit, one last time. They called in Danzo.

Oroki, grim as he was, went rigit. Disgraced councilman was bad news even before he was disgraced.

– That fucker gave me choice. Either I was playing along or I would never see Teuchi and Ayame. Noone would.

The therapist, keeping his mouth shut, noted abnormal calm in his client. Uzumaki was quiet, no killing intent in air or even malice on his face.

– Hatake took me to training ground. I was crying, also for the last time, I think. Certainty last time so vocal. He waited about minute. When threw me, still sobbing, to my two new teammates. And said to suck it up. And so I did.

Oroki casted passing glance to Uzuki’s file. Bell test, one about teamwork, was passed by this generation with as small of teamwork as possible. “Self-harm tendencies” was marked there. Twelve years old Naruto Uzumaki engage his jounin sensei in melee. Then detonated dozen explosion seals. While Kakashi Hatake, with some wounds on himself, retrieved unconcounsident and bleeding out student to Konoha Hospital, remaining two found torned bells. Despite active protest from Hatake, team passed.

– I guess, that’s understandable, your resentment to Hatake-san as a teacher. – Oroki finally offered.

– I do not resent him as a teacher, because he is not a one. – the man spat. – They never should tried to make him one.

– But you resent him still. – Uzumaki didn’t argue and that was as good confirmation, as any. – Why?

– Why do you think? –  _ now _ there was malice, slowly creeping in man’s voice.

– Well, he was appointed as Hokage just about year ago, so small chance that this is politic disagreement. Hatake-san is eccentric, but you are probably the last one to have problem with that. And, if you  _ insist _ that you do not hold neglect against him… My bet is – it is about Forth.

– Congratulation. – Uzumaki gave out a mocking salute. – But I'll bet you a hundred, you wrong about reason.

– How so?

– Because every-fucking-one think I’m just some kind of petty pissy boy with daddy issues. And as such I despise every living reminder of this.

– Which is not true. – offered therapist in gentle voice. Seeing how fast the man worked himself up, he could professionally say – Uzumaki had daddy issues. But he was not quite that suicidal.

– He was Forth’s student. Last one. And he was an orphan. Forth and mother was as close to his parents as shinobi could. And you know, how do I know?

– How? – Oroki asked, when it became obviously the question wasn’t a rhetorical.

– Kurama told me. – Uzumaki hissed.

– There was an order about conspiracy… – Oroki tried, even while his hair standed up.

– That fucker had gal to scold me, day after day, that I didn’t give a shit about my “comrades”. The very ones who hadn’t even came to check on me in hospital after  _ I _ win their pass. Who bad-mouthed me, abused me, treated me like dead weight. – Uzumaki took deep breath, but didn’t stop. – He paraded, like some fucking knight, with this belief, about how ruler-breakers are trash, but those who betrays their comrade even worse. And then his sensei died. His somewhat aunt died! And his would-be brother was left all alone! And what rule did he break?! What had he done?!

This was not like last time, Oroki duly noted. Last time Uzumaki was bitter about his story, but careful with his anger. Now he was hateful enough to trigger seals on walls – they started to glow with arcane light. And he showed no desire to stop.

– And don’t even start on this whole “he was young and traumatized himself” shit. I do not fucking care! That was not the single night opportunity, I was there for decades, and I was alone! He is sneak assassination specialist, and with seal knowledge too, he could smuggle me out whenever he would like. Oh, fuck it, let him be loyal to this shithole! But he  _ did _ became my teacher and team lead!

Uzumaki choked aggressively, his voice becoming raw from unusual volume. But he just spat something dark red and continued with slightly lower voice.

– And he was adult by then, with more money and influence that he did care for. You would think, Copy-nin could at least visit his student. Or ask how he processing his first kill, or give him some sealing advise, or just pat on shoulder. I didn’t need friend, or father figure, or mentor. Just some-fucking-one who would care to… To do something. Anything.

There was sob, Oroki noticed, all the while trying to suppress fight or flight instinct. Buried deep in seasoned rage, under layers and layers of justified hatred. But there was.

– But you know what? – Uzumaki’s voice dropped dangerously low, and suddenly the man was standing, his hand on table. Therapist flinched, to no avail. – Reading porn was too time-consuming!!!

For all his fight experience, Oroki didn’t notice exact move, only consequences. Table went right into the wall, breaking apart. Papers and pens scattered across the room. Uzumaki’s chair smashed against the door, Oroki’s, with therapist himself, was driven to the wall. Something red and corrosive flared across the seals.

– Fuck off, Kura! – barked Uzumaki with jerk of head. – And yeah, yeah! That’s the best part! – he turned back to Oroki with hysterical laugh. – It was Kurama, who told me about this. One day, when I was sixteen or something, he just growled: “Remember that perverted teacher of yours? The one who would show up when we was rampaging, with Inu’s mask? Just remembered, it’s your father’s student. Kushina used to feed him up from time to time.” Boom!

The man finally stopped. In the middle of the room, panting, body shaking. Oroki didn’t trust his voice, so he stayed silent. Uzumaki did not, but he at least rambled, not roared.

– You asked, how was my week. Alright then. Two days ago, I was walking with Hina, minding my own life. This funny hat fucker oh-so-accidently happened to walking there too. He stopped, greeted us. Talked some polite bullshit. And then, already on the leave, congratulated me with our breakthrough. Said, he's proud of me.

Now, world’s best shinobi's anger was coming out cold and contained.

– As if he still has any rights to be proud. Any rights to care. – the man hissed. – Next two hours Hina was holding me, while I was doing my best in not destroying his mountain face with his real one.

Last world were literally spat and gave topic some clousereness. Uzumaki, no longer trembling, observed the mess around him and cursed. Pressure in air almost dramatically dropped.

With one hand Uzumaki ripped his blindfold off. Oroki knew about Rinnegan, but didn’t get to see one this close. In his daze, therapist, quite rudely, stared as purple eyes pulsed with unnatural power. Broken pieces and falled papers started to fly, slowly backing to their original places. Table was glued with some sort of seal. Therapist didn’t move once. 

– Sorry. – the man muttered. Uzumaki lifted blindfold to his face and silk knotted inself on his head. – For the mess, and for this too. I know, it’s unnerving, but multitask helps me to calm.

– It’s fine. – croaked Oroki. – Eyes, and, eh. Anger streaming. That’s what we doing this for.

– And what’s the use of this? Some broken furniture and winded up nerves.

– But doesn’t it feel slightly lighter, now that you are not the only one in know?

Uzumaki shrugged.

– Still doesn’t change anything.

– You’ll be surprised.

Oroki at last gained control of his arms and reached inside his jacket. Then he stood up and started walking.

– What are you doing? – the man asked, genuinely puzzled.

– You won our bet. – answered therapist, all but shoving a banknote into Uzumaki’s chest. – Sorry to cut this short, but I really need to drink something right now. Looking forward next week.

Oroki stopped in front of sealed door.

– There is small bar, down the street. – Uzumaki said in space, still facing empty chair. – They serving pretty decent shochu.

Seals disappeared in moment notice. Therapist, no, Ishizuki Oroki, war veteran and retired shinobi, cleared his throat. He was about to bite more than he can chew. But…

– You buying?

– Need to celebrate my winnings somehow. – came nonchalant answer.

– So, I heard there was some special progress this week.

– For the last time, Hokage-sama, I would not break clients conspiracy  _ or _ snitch on drinking fellow.

– Maaa, I understand, understand. No need for pulling faces. You can go now.

– Thank you, Hokage-sama.

Oroki gave one small bow and headed out of cabinet.He opened the door and took in queue of waiting shinobi and civilians. He turned his head back.

– Hokage-sama, one last word?

– Oh?

– You are an asshole.


End file.
